Pleasure Unbound

Pain sears.

Fire ignites against my flesh.

I scream out, my body jerking, back arching, and nipples tightening, as something singes my chest spot after spot. My mind races-a flash of coherency between each bite of pain-and focuses solely on where I think the next place will be.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Hot wax.

My skin chills but then burns.

Drip.

“Pain can bring pleasure, mia bella,” he murmurs as another drop falls, and I hiss to combat the hurt. “Pain can make your nerves sensitive.” Drip.

“Can make your body overcompensate in other ways.” Drip.

I struggle to pull myself from the hypnotic fixation on where it will drop next. I want to scream at him to stop. Want to ask him how he can say no pain and then he does this. Why he lied?

My mind finally forms the words, my tongue readies to say them when they are knocked clear off my lips.

His mouth closes over my nipple. The unexpected move-the warm, wet feeling of him adding tantalization to my torment-has my back bowing and a strangled sigh falling from my lips. I relax some, relieved the drips of wax may be on hiatus my mind is focused for so long on the pain that the pleasure is unexpectedly heightened. The movement of his tongue, the contrast of sucking hard and then laving softly, mainlines an electric current to my core that I don’t have an ounce of strength to fight.

And the difference this time is that his body is against mine, pressing me into the softness of the mattress beneath us. The taut muscles of his abdomen rub between the juncture of my thighs when he moves up my body so his mouth can pleasure my right breast. His hand squeezes my other one, fingers pinching, manipulating, and then a pressure edging on pain closes around my nipple.

My mind is yanked cruelly from concentrating on his mouth, my breath hissing in, my head angling up as if I would be able to see what he’s doing. The sting is slight but combined with the wax and his mouth, every inch of my body hums and rides on a high alert. His teeth nip and tug again before he releases my tightened bud, and then I feel matching pain there as well.

He pulls justly on whatever connects the two nipple clamps.

My breath catches in my throat.

Drip.

I cried out at the unexpected sensation when I thought it was over.

His chuckle resonates in the room, scarring its way into my memory just as the wax singles my flesh. His body lifts, my own easing up from the mattress without his weight on me. The bed sways and then stills.

And then nothing.

The silence hits again, smothers my mind, and heightens my anticipatory fear. The floorboards announce his movement and something clatters onto the floor And I wait.

The ice-cold chill hits my skin, and a gasped “Ahhh” falls from my mouth.

“Silence,” he commands. And I fight the urge to gasp when he rubs the ice cube around my nipple. It hardens to the point of pain and the sensation mixed with the clamping causes a bewildering surge of arousal. He continues his tantalizing torture of the cubes around my breasts, up to the hollow of my throat, and then back down.

He circles my navel and then lets it rest in the hollow of my belly button. The chill of the cube sitting idly begins to burn subtly, causing me to squirm.

“Ah, Bella Lilly,” he murmurs, and I can hear the smile I remember from my glance at the bar in his voice. “Do not move. Do not let the water spill over. Not one drop. The only other thing allowed to be wet is this pussy of yours.” His fingers are on my opening, spreading my sex apart. I tense at the feeling-invading fingers on my most intimate parts-and I can feel the growing drop of water on my stomach fall over the dip of my navel and run down my stomach.

“Ah, you are dripping for me, no? You like fire and ice?”

My body trembles as he slips two fingers into me and bends them before pulling them slowly back out. My eyes roll back and a moan comes from deep within as he continues his assault, plunging into me and then curving to hit my G-spot perfectly on their way out. He draws sensations from me that are so intense, so powerful, that there is no way I can suppress them. I begin to writhe, begin to lift my hips for him, grant him access as my body begs him to sate the need he’s created.

“If it spills, you’ll be punished,” he warns as his fingers withdraw completely causing me to suddenly feel empty and dangling on the brink of release. “… You will make me go back on my word not to hurt you.” He asks. “I don’t like to be forced to break promises.”

My mind registers his forewarning, but my body couldn’t care less when I feel something push into me. The water on my stomach, the heeded advice-none of it matters because all I can concentrate on is the slow insertion of something ice cold, inch by thick inch into me. Chills race over my flesh. They are so severe I can feel the hardened wax pull from my skin as he begins to slowly pull the frozen object back out. I angle my hips and try to relieve the extremity of the temperature when whatever is within me hits the soft nerve-laden spot within. I begin yanking my legs against my restraints. The intensity of the mixture-cold against sensitivity-is almost too much for me to bear.

The room fills with my cry and his chuckle-an odd juxtaposition of sound-as my body fights the sensations resulting from his machinations. His hand stills, the iced wand remains unwelcome but wanted within me, and the only sound in the room is the harsh rasp of our panted breaths.

“You failed.” That task of him is back, chilling my insides just as the ice does my outsides. “Now, Lilly, you weren’t a very good girl.” It’s all he says but the disappointment in his voice causes a random mix of emotions to swell within. Fear of the punishment, despair over the situation, self-loathing that I was so attuned to what he was doing to me elsewhere that I forgot his singular demand.